Pillow Talk
by EbonyIvoryy
Summary: Edward has never been a man of words. However, when the curtains are drawn and the intimacy is rising, pillow talk seems to speak for him. EdxWin, one-shot, any-verse; rated T for sexual implications.


**Disclaimer: **Arakawa's sandbox, I'm just playing in it.**  
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**A/N:** Finally! Another Ed x Win oneshot! I felt I needed more of them, considering how much I adore this pairing. I've had this plot in my mind for a while. This fanfic can be set in any FMA universe, although it would make most sense to be based on the manga/Brotherhood-verse. But you as readers may use your imagination~ Enjoy.

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><p><em>P i l l o w T a l k<em>

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The oxygen was thick with lust — it surrounds them. Perspiration, stiff air, candlelight, rose petals, flushed skin, tangled limbs, bare flesh, hair snapping from its restraint. Sex. Not until the former FullMetal Alchemist lost his virginity, has he realized the true value of senses. In that cavernous room, alone with his childhood friend, making sweet, sweet love on the cushions. That was where he found the fundamentals of each human sense: sight, sound, smell, taste, touch.

The image of Winry's slender, yet curvaceous body — with her porcelain skin, her subtle waist, her wide hips, her introverted navel, her long legs, her delicate arms, her luscious rump, her voluptuous mounds with a pink tip, and _lord_, her—

...Just the mere thought of her naked figure got Edward all riled up.

The sound of keens and moans, pitching to every degree. No matter what part during the passionate love-making, constant pants could always be heard. Every once in a while, the moan would shriek to a full-blown scream. And afterward, a simple purr of pleasure.

The scent of sex. How else to explain it? It was an aroma that had a strong, overpowering sense to it, yet, sweet like a ripe cherry for picking. Naked bodies rubbing together, causing friction to stink up the whole joint. Like five hours of volleyball practice.

The taste of _her_. The taste of _him_. Like golden honey, or salty baked flesh.

The way she _felt_. So plush, like the world's most hypnotizing cloud. The way he _felt._ Increasingly warm, like a fresh apple pie, with the temperature shock of his icy automail leg. Hard with muscles, yet soft with the way he used them.

Hair was pulled, names were moaned, and the mattress continuously squeaked in protest as it banged into the wall, causing pieces of the ceiling to crumble.

But things weren't always like this. They weren't always so filled with passion.

Even after Ed admitted his feelings to the mechanic, things were never fully... said. It had been that way for as long as Winry could remember. As children, Edward was expert at blocking out emotions and issues. In return, his arm and leg was taken. His brother's body, demolished to the gate. When he joined the military, she would worry about him to no end, fearing he would just... never come home again. But he never informed her of the details when he was in danger. He never let her help or be involved. This built up more struggles.

After twenty years of knowing Ed, eight years of falling for him, and two years of being 'together', Winry has come to accept the fact that he would never be a man of words. He was a man of action. Simple, complex actions. Straight to the point.

One day, he stopped by his mother and father's grave. Of course, he had let go of the grudge against Hohenheim long ago, now feeling nothing but regret that the man hadn't lived longer. It was ironic, being that he lived for centuries.

But when his loving blonde mechanic came up behind him, snaking her arms around his waist, his expression went from poignant to stern. He needed to maintain his pride. He couldn't break down in front of Winry. Still, she sensed something was wrong. Looking to him with velvet, comforting blinders, she asked if he was going to be okay. As usual, he replied with a blunt and ignorant, "I'm fine."

Sometimes, when they got into an argument, Winry would run away with a tearful face. Eventually Ed would curse to himself that he was an idiot, then go chasing after her. Once he found the young woman, he would wrap his masculine arms around her, squeezing her to his chest lovingly. His golden eyebrows would knit together in a sincere countenance. But... he said nothing. No "sorry", no nothing. They never resolved their conflict. Strangely, his affectionate actions would take place of apologies and compromises. Hence, they'd be back to peachy the next day.

To be honest, the statement 'I love you' rarely escaped from Edward's lips. He showed her that he loved her through prolonging gazes and tentative kisses. Of course, he could have an entire conversation with Winry throughout the night _without _bodily pleasures. This wasn't just about the hormones. However, when he did want to prove his loyalty, he'd show it through love-making.

Okay. At the beginning, it wasn't perfect. In the very first moments of exchanging virginities, it was undeniably awkward... But once they really 'got into it', the whole sex thing became a guilty pleasure. With the satin sheets, the intoxicating atmosphere, and the five senses. When in bed with Winry, Edward could let out every thought and struggle going through his mind. He didn't feel bashful to do so. When in bed, he could explain just how much he needed Miss Rockbell. Just how much he was willing to spend the rest of his life with her. For all the times he acted cruel toward her, he made up for in bed. And they both loved every part of it.

Firstly, there was the intimacy building up in the beginning... That part was the most flustering, but still enjoyable. Secondly, there was the lightly-given oral... In which that part was more teasing than anything. Thirdly, there was the full-blown pleasure dance, where their bodies literally connected. Most couples would say that is their favorite part, but as for Ed and Winry... _their_ view is completely different.

Their favorite moment in making love? The aftermath. When the climax comes to its peak, Ed's limbs grow limp as he plops onto his dear mechanic. When this happens, all that could be heard is the faint hyperventilating of two lovers. The small whimpers of content. The sticky, sweaty bodies entangled with one another. The lifeless, cloudy, enticing eyes that Ed and Winry both possessed. Their daze in wonderland. Every candle had blown out, leaving the room in calm dimness.

And afterward, when Ed crawls off of her, takes a good look at her frivolous features, pulls her into his arms and impulsively whispers, "I love you."

Pillow talk never fails.

**_F i n_**


End file.
